


The Serpent shall not invade the Garden of Eden

by Asvang



Category: Midsommar (2019)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 17:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asvang/pseuds/Asvang
Summary: “We would do anything for you, hjärtanskär. There’s nothing wrong with letting us hold you”.





	The Serpent shall not invade the Garden of Eden

**Author's Note:**

> Red_evil_twist, thanks for helping me with the translation :) Again x)  
Russian version - "Змею не проскользнуть в Эдем" - is available on Ficbook.

The black presence – God but not God – deceived her that night. Chased her through the forest, black shadows trailing her path, rumbling leaves deafening her, dead rabbit’s eyes haunting her every step. She felt it mocking her when she burrowed her broken nails into the grass or watched the ants swarming in the rotting flesh. She felt it and understood what it was talking about: you are alone, all of you, and for me it’s a blessing – I love your miserable deaths, your suffering tastes so good; I’d like to see you dying here, clawing desperately at your neck, for you are so claustrophobic in your own bones.

“We are alone,” she wheezed out clinging to Christian, to his shirt, to his cold eyes. “We are always alone, nothing means anything… it makes us be born and die alone, again, again and again, and there’s nothing we could do…”

Christian pushed her away back then. “You just got scared”. “You’re having a bad trip, Dani, and you’re killing our buzz!” He took her arm with his sharp fingers, pulled her onto the balmy meadows under the blue sky. She cried, tried not to see the grinning thorns, the smoke licking her sneakers, the silhouettes in twisted masks with hoses in their open throats. “Yes, yes, I’m just afraid, I’m so sorry,” she whined, with the scream tearing her lungs from the inside.

The black presence – God but not God, – hid the truth but was right all along. It hissed: you can’t be saved from me. Your sister couldn’t, your sister is in my womb now, forever stuck in terror, boiling in gas and puke, and your mother and father came to me, too, in the shackles of eternal sleep. One day I shall take you as well; my darkness will swallow you, Dani, my dear enemy. She covered her ears, commanded herself not to look in the mirror. But then she found out that “it” was just the Serpent that could not invade the Garden of Eden.

Eden – Hårga – is pure with its pearly clouds and yellow flowers. It’s nice to wander among them shivering when the wind lifts a swarm of petals in the air, tickles your bare legs. Children playing, girls giggling in the Main House, men splashing by the pond after a hard-working day in the field. No one is ever silent here: they walk in pairs, dance, teach boys and girls to read and to write, prepare dinner, repair rickety sheds… Dany joins them here and there, assisting where she can, but she has never been rejected: they pat her on the back, guide her gently and never get angry if she makes a mistake.

At first, when it happens, she loses her balance, apologizes and runs: under the ropes with the blindingly white bed linen, past the trees, gardens and rune stones. To sneak away before they are disappointed in her, before their smiles twist up in the grimaces: you are not the family, you are not ours. And she rushes away stumbling and shaking feverishly, until she’s picked up carefully, mercilessly, without a chance to break out. Sometimes she kicks, wriggles, begs to let her go, but always surrenders to his exhorts: “Dani? Dani, look at me”.

She does. Pelle takes her face in his hands, leans toward her, and her forehead touches his, and they breathe together. The dark knot behind her ribs dissolves; she lurches, but he holds her. He always does, and there’s no need to even ask him. She reaches for him – the same way she did for Christian that night when the police packed her parents and Terri in the plastic bags; the same way she did in those woods, where all the hatred of the world seemed to be waiting for her; but Pelle doesn’t pull away. He is there for her until women make some tea with chamomile and mint (chamomile, mint, nothing else). The girls chatter, comfort her – you are our sister, our blood and spirit. Don’t be afraid.

“Poor child!” Siv laments after the flames of Midsummer temple burn out. “We are going to take care of you,” and nods at Pelle in some special way.

Dani suspects it’s the reason why he is always around, and if something happens to her, she hears: “Pelle! Pelle!” ringing over the village, and he’s suddenly there to catch her, to bring her back, to say something that would make her better. He knows how to calm Dani down, spare her from panic and guilt, convince her that everything is all right and she has nothing to worry about. She is not in the outside world anymore; the outside world is not a threat – no pain, no tragedy. Hårga will help her put the past behind. Pelle will help. They will be by Dani’s side as long as she needs to heal, so she can share their joy and embrace the never setting sun and the golden plains; as long as it takes to be reborn in the glory of ancient gods, stars and sacred streams; to forget being broken and lost.

“We would do anything for you, hjärtanskär,” he whispers, and she dreams: the sea lulls her to sleep with its tender breeze, and the waves shine like the skin of thoroughbreds. “There’s nothing wrong with letting us hold you”.

Soon she stops doubting at all and doesn’t want to run anymore. Her friends show her how they braid their hair, sew and embroider their dresses, make pies with floral swirls. She carves the runes every morning in a group of ruddy children, and they climb on her knees, mumble something, and she mumbles, too, as she has to live from the very beginning. Bouncy, chiseled phrases pulse on her tongue; she does her best to refine them, and women exclaim with delight: “Wonderful! Amazing!” – hug her, promising that in a spring or two their language will fill her completely, and she will be sparkling with their songs and legends.

One day she tries to speak Swedish to Pelle, a little awkward. He looks so surprised at first that Dani almost bolts away, but he smiles, answers, slow and clear; they sit under the ash tree and talk, talk, talk, until the midday heat fades above the roofs. When the horn calls for dinner, she shudders, confused – he kisses her in the cheek, distracting from the stifling thoughts: “I’m happy you’ve decided to stay”.

The silver light glows on the buds, scorching, flickering on her eyelashes. Dani looks around: there’s no darkness here, only the vast ocean of the sunlight, and the black presence (God, but not God) is mute – Hårga has sewed his mouth shut. Dani wants to say – and does, as if it’s a revelation, an absolute freedom: “I’m happy, too”.

Welcome home.


End file.
